


the brain is alone

by Skogmus



Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Lowercase, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 21:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8939503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skogmus/pseuds/Skogmus
Summary: jay can't help but miss home.





	

it was always cold on the island. always, always, stiff muscles, red fingers, tremors and smoky breath. bone-deep frost, smothering, suffocating. 

in auradon, it's warm. it smells warm too, like flowers and grass and life. the sun is shining, big and bright and beautiful. the people are warm. they smile, they laugh, it's like magic. it is magic.

jay can't get over how different the two places are, especially when they're so close in distance. he can't phantom how they're almost the opposite, cold and warm, dead and alive, bad and good.

the isle was bad. jay knows this. he remembers fighting for food scraps, for clothing, for dominance. dominance was important, because without it he would be free killing, and he couldn't trust anyone, there's no team in i.  
he remembers keeping his head down until he was strong enough to keep his chin high, strong enough to beat all the others. and jay was strong enough. he remembers overhearing people talking about him, remembers people running in fear from him.

but jay was fast too, and that was his biggest strength. he didn't fight needlessly, preferred to work quickly, jump in and out and get it done.

he remembers being kicked out in the mornings, remembers stealing everything worthy, everything shimmering, everything not broken. he remembers being forced to sleep outside when he couldn't get enough, and the nights were always the coldest. the nights were always the coldest.

he remembers mal always glaring, always having the upper hand and being the best, because she had a reputation to take care of, and her mother would be furious should it take a hit. he remembers her walking as if she owned the while isle, and never, ever doing a mistake, and if she did, paling and almost not breathing, terrified.

he remembers evie with wide, wild eyes, weak and skinny, frail. he remembers her being locked into her room, and he remembers climbing up to her window with food after not seeing her for days, finding her starved and dehydrated. 

he remembers carlos, with bruised skin and broken bones, nerves high-strung. remembers him being beat up by just about everyone, lowest on the food chain, rising after falling, always.

he remembers finding them all, one by one, and them fitting each other like pieces from a jigsaw puzzle, but with their parent looming over them like shadows, always a threat, the worst enemy, but he remembers almost forgetting them when he were with the others.

his friends. auradon says they're friends.

the isle was bad, and jay knows this, but it's still home, and he misses it.

there were good things there, evie's smile and mal's sly humor and carlos' brilliance, their warmth. 

evie smiles even more here and mal is even more snarky and carlos is even more brilliant now, and jay couldn't love them more.

he loves them. an entirely new concept. 

but nothing is the the same way it used to be. it feels superficial, almost, the way they talk and the way they laugh. as if they're not close enough, as if their souls aren't entwined into each other. they, his friends, look so happy, so at ease here in auradon, almost as if they've lived here all their lives. almost as if they don't need him at all. 

he can't break that happiness. he can't tell them he misses the isle, dreadful thing. he can't tell them he feels wrong, somehow, feels out of place and strange, buzzing, buzzing.

there's a wall between him and them. jay is all alone inside himself, like he used to be. he had forgotten how devastating it felt. how hard it is. but he soldiers on, and smiles when it's expected, play fights with them. it makes him feel even lonelier, that he doesn't mean it like he should. that he's not entirely there, but rather in their old three house. 

everything is dull. the bright colors of auradon seems bleak, and jay feels cold, feels like he is left in the island. his bones are heavy. he is alone. he can't tell them how he feels, for then they will hate him. how can he miss a place that caused them so much pain?

they notice. of course they do.

they corner him, one day, in his and carlos' room, worry clear in their faces. 

"hey," mal begins, looking kind of awkward.

"hey. what's going on?" he says, nonchalant-but-not-really.

"we're concerned, jay."

"concerned?"

"yes." evie bites her lip. "you're isolating yourself. and we can't understand why."

jay can see that this is something they have practiced, rehearsed, and he doesn't know how to feel. on one hand it's touching, both that they have noticed and that they want to help him, but he doesn't want them too. they can't, not the way he wants them too.

"jay. what's wrong?" carlos sits down beside him, and so does evie and mal, and now all four if them sits on his bed. it reminds him of old days.

can he tell them? is there anything to tell? sure, he misses home; so what? it doesn't matter, does it? 

carlos' hand is suddenly on his back and jay flinches, but only a little. the hand stays and rubs circles over his clothes. it helps, strangely, helps break the wall down.

"it's wrong," jay mumbles.

"what is wrong?" 

"this."

it's quiet for some time. they wait.

"it's just, it's fake."

"fake?" mal looks at him seriously, and that too, is like before. they're rarely serious in auradon.

"the way we live. it's fake." he pauses, tries to organize his thoughts. it's buzzing. "i know the isle was bad, but i miss it." he braces himself, waits for them to shout at him, to scream and hate him.

they don't. 

mal and evie come closer, they stroke and pet him, and their touch is cool, not warm like in auradon. they hug him, all four is wrapped in a hug, not a new thing. a normal thing. 

"the island is our home," evie murmurs softly. "of course we miss it."

"it's what we're used to," mal says. "all of our friends are there."

"the treehouse," carlos' whispers. "i constantly long after the treehouse."

jay remembers the treehouse. he remembers staying there when it was too cold to sleep. they would huddle together for warmth there, and they would find it too. it was like a crows nest, where they all brought food and things that could be useful, garbage really. 

"i'm alone," jay says; his voice is thin and small.

"you're not," mal says. "we're here." the others nods solemnly, and jay feels relieved. isn't he alone?

"you are?" jay can't help but ask, terrified he's wrong, terrified of rejection and terrified of accept too.  
he misses the island as much as he hates it.

"we are here. we are here and we love you."

they love him. he loves them back, but he can't tell them.

"i love you too." oh. he could, after all.

something bursts inside him and he buries into mal and evie and carlos, and there's tears leaking out if his eyes. 

they're there.


End file.
